


Good Intentions

by tahirire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e06 Yellow Fever, Gen, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-27
Updated: 2008-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam swore he was done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Intentions

Good Intentions

 _What else can you do?  
_

 _I can send them back to Hell. It only works with demons, and that’s it.  
_

 _What else can you DO?  
_

~*~

The road was hypnotic, stretching out forever, the feet of the mountains barely visible beyond the reflections of the Impala’s windows. Sam smiled, passing a brief gaze over Dean’s sleeping form. Something inside of him relaxed a little further at the sight. Dean with his guard down; Dean trusting him to get them to wherever they needed to go. 

Sam’s grip firmed on the steering wheel. _Just breathe, everything’s fine now._ Things with Dean had been tense the last few weeks, but he felt like they were finally finding each other again. 

_Get out of my brother, you evil sonnofabitch!  
_

Until yesterday. 

~*~

Sam had been so careful with Dean. Watching his brother fall apart over even the most trivial events had been hard enough; exuding calm and concentrating solely on finishing the job – _just another ghost, nothing’s gonna happen, just hunt the ghost, Dean will be fine_ – had wound his nerves tighter than he’d ever have thought possible. 

So when he lost Dean in the parking lot, that was _it._ He was frantic while he searched, calling his brother’s name in the dark, checking the shadows for a different kind of ghost; a younger, smaller, completely terrified version of the strongest man he’d ever met. 

_How the Hell’d you get here?  
_

 _Ran.  
_

Sam sat on the bed, bone-weary, disbelief and sorrow at Dean’s frightened tone burning through his veins. He didn’t know what to say.

 _I’m gonna die, Sammy!  
_

White-hot rage, dark tendrils of power bubbling up inside him prevented any possibility of a coherent response. _No, you’re not. Never again. Never fucking again, Dean._ He took a deep and careful breath, trying to calm the swell, and from the corner of his eye he glimpsed Dean staring at him with open confusion etched across his pale face. 

_Back …?  
_

Sam knew instantly something was wrong, but – it all happened so fast.

Before he could process what it was he had missed, Dean lunged at him. Dean’s eyes burned with a feral rage Sam had seen one too many times; Dean was out for blood. He raised his hand in self-defense, rasping out, “Dean, stop!”

The power came out with a punch, pure instinct. Sam gaped, horrified as he watched his brother hit the far wall. 

_Get out of my brother, you evil sonnofabitch!  
_

 _Oh, God no.  
_

He rushed over, eyes wide as he placed his hand over Dean’s racing heart. Dean was practically sobbing, writhing away from his touch, and Sam had seen it enough times before to know exactly what Dean was seeing. 

As soon as Dean came around, nodding his confirmation that the vision was over, Sam released him, instantly putting as much distance between them as he could. He waited for Dean to say something, explode, maybe hit him again, but Dean just rubbed a trembling hand over his face and said he needed a shower. 

He paused in the doorway, raising his eyes to his brother. Sam held his breath, waiting for Dean to call him on the lie, to tell him how disappointed he was. 

But instead, Dean’s face was an open book, and his grateful gaze searched Sam’s face, imploring. 

_Uh – don’t leave? I don’t wanna be alone.  
_

 _Sure, Dean. I’m right here.  
_

Sam knew then he’d been beyond lucky. Dean left the bathroom door cracked, and Sam sank down onto the bed, buried his head in his shaking hands, and tried to choke down his tears. 

~*~

 _What else can you do?  
_

~*~

 _What did you see? At the end, I mean?  
_

He tried to sound casual, but his heart was racing. Dean deflected the question, just like Sam knew he would, but Sam _wanted_ to know.

 _Seriously.  
_

 _The word felt heavy as he said it, and he watched Dean’s eyes narrow, the briefest flicker of doubt flashing across his face. Sam bit back hard, shut the power down. _No, I don’t need you._ He felt it recede as quickly as it had come.  
_

 _Howler monkeys.  
_

Sam huffed. He knew better, he wished Dean could just talk to him, but for now, he’d take it. They’d both lived to fight another day, and –

 _Just the usual stuff, Sammy. Nothin’ I couldn’t handle.  
_

And there it was. Sam froze, Dean’s words washing over him in waves. The confidence he heard in his brother’s voice was like lightening, jolting him. 

_Nothin’ I couldn’t handle.  
_

And Sam knew he meant it. 

~*~

Dean mumbled softly into his leather jacket, muffled words that Sam couldn’t quite make out. His face tensed, fingers twitching in response to some unseen horror. It could just be a fear; but it could be a memory. 

Sam bit his lower lip, shook his head, tried not to listen. But the sounds of Dean’s nightmare were getting louder, and he just wanted him to _rest_. To not be afraid anymore. 

Never looking away from the road, Sam brushed Dean’s pale forehead with the backs of his fingertips. 

“Shh, I got you. Rest, Dean. I’m right here.” 

Dean relaxed.

Sam kept driving. 

~*~

 _What else can you do?  
_

 _Anything … everything. I can do everything.  
_


End file.
